As a teenager, I still hung with the boys. Part of the deal was that I was “cool” and didn’t get rattled by the locker room banter. I was cool. I laughed. I even started to look down on the girls that would react to their sexual innuendos. They weren’t cool. Those girls were too sensitive, too prissy, and a buzz kill.

In my twenties, I worked in tech and got even cooler. I would ignore unwanted advances, roll my eyes at stupid, sexist comments, and I would continue to disparage the women that filed complaints. They just couldn’t hang.

In my thirties, I had a daughter. I was still cool. I wanted to make sure my daughter knew she could be and do anything she wanted in life. I encouraged her to not conform to female stereotypes like only wearing pink and only playing with dolls. She was wild, and rough, and a tomboy – my GIRL!

Photo by Kevin Jesus Horacio on Unsplash

In my forties, my daughter has grown into a young women. Trump became president. Most recently, the Kavanaugh hearings began. I am so not cool anymore.

I am so uncool now that I look back on my younger self and feel ashamed. Whatever we say about the current state of affairs between men and women, I realize now that I was part of the problem all these years, not the solution.

I thought I was being resilient. I took pride in withstanding the sexism that women face every day with a smile on my face and joke to back it up. I was STRONG. Stronger than the whimpy women that crumbled at an off color joke, submitted sexual harassment claims over a pinched ass or comment about her tits, and told off men catcalling her in the street.

Even as I write this, I want to smack the idiot that was me. Those other women were SO strong and I couldn’t see it. I was too busy toughing it out, building up my teflon coating.

I am now watching women rally for Trump, praise Kavanaugh, and belittle the women coming forward with sexual assault allegations against the most powerful people in our country. All I can think is, I could have been one of them. I was not so far removed from their line of thinking – boys will be boys *smiley face**wink**wink*. I just drew my line earlier than they did with a little less tolerance.

I am not resilient anymore. I will not be flexible with my boundaries. I will not bounce back from the rude behavior of men. I will not let any women feel ashamed or belittled for feeling uncomfortable or unsafe because of a man’s behavior. I will not let my daughter see me be anything but supportive of the strong women that do the hardest thing of all – stand up for herself in the face of a man using all the resources of law and order available to her.

I will no longer be part of the problem by using my resilience as an excuse to look the other way.

—————————

This is not a popular position to take, this position of power as a woman. To say “NO”, I won’t accept the things that were OK to me before but not anymore. I’m changing the boundary line, and it’s not comfortable for the men around me. What they don’t know is that it’s far more uncomfortable for me. I used to take all the punches and now I’m throwing a few of my own.

]]>https://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/2018/09/28/women-need-to-stop-being-resilient/feed/0blurbmyenthusiasmWe Need to Talk About Miscarriageshttps://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/2018/06/24/we-need-to-talk-about-miscarriages/
https://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/2018/06/24/we-need-to-talk-about-miscarriages/#respondSun, 24 Jun 2018 22:09:45 +0000http://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/?p=1320***BEFORE YOU READ: I want to be really clear that this article is written from the perspective of a mom that did not undergo IVF treatment but did need hormones to help conceive, had 1 child prior to a miscarriage at 10 weeks, and had a successful pregnancy following. If you are one of the many women who have been trying unsuccessfully to give birth to a child, this article will not reflect your experience and may be really triggering. I have nothing but love and respect for all women, and would hate to contribute to any hurt. My purpose in writing this is to provide a perspective on miscarriage that I never had a chance to hear before my pregnancy journey.***

I am the mom who will tell you about the insanely horrible pregnancy I had with my first, the thoughts of “Oh God, what have I done??” soon after she was born, and belabor you with details about post birth that you may not really want to hear if you haven’t been there or done that yet.

I will also tell you that between my first and second child, I had a miscarriage. I’ll also tell you that while the D&C procedure that I opted for wasn’t anything close to pleasant, I was not devastated by the experience.

Photo by Asdrubal luna on Unsplash

According to the article “Making Sense of Miscarriage”, by Krissi Danielsson and reviewed by Meredith Shur, MD.,one in three pregnancies that are confirmed to have implanted end in miscarriage. I had heard something about the statistic well before I started trying to conceive, and I figured it could happen to anyone. I actually half expected to have a miscarriage at some point because of it. Little did I know that I would become a real life statistical representation: 3 pregnancies, 1 miscarriage.

I wasn’t devastated, but I was sad. They found the heartbeat at my first exam. At my 10-week checkup they tried to find the heartbeat, and from the moment the nurse excused herself, I knew. This one was not going to be.

Over the next several days, I had to hear the final news from my doctor after a confirming ultrasound, make a decision about whether or not to let the pregnancy end “naturally” with my body having a natural miscarriage at some undetermined point in the next several weeks, or schedule a procedure called a D&C (dilation (or dilatation) and curettage). There was no medication available at that time, or at least it was not offered to me, which is now a third option to stimulate a miscarriage versus waiting for the body to decide. I opted for the D&C because the thought of waiting made me incredibly anxious.

The procedure was scheduled within a week and, after a few days of taking it easy, I was back to work. No longer pregnant. Just me, myself, and I again.

Why wasn’t I devastated?

If I’m being honest, it didn’t feel like the loss of a child. It felt more like the loss of a potential child. It occurred to me that something wasn’t biologically right for this particular soul to grow into a fully birthed person. Whether it was a genetic mutation, a hormonal imbalance, an unstable environment in myself, something just wasn’t right.

And that was OK.

I sincerely believe that miscarriages are part of the cycle of life. It’s not the part we want acknowledge, and never one we want to experience, but it’s there none the less. And given the statistics, it’s a reality that a lot of us will face. So why don’t we talk about it as a normal part of a pregnancy journey?

I think that’s why I DO talk about it. To anyone who asks about my children, my pregnancies, anything related to my mom journey.

I had this very conversation with my neighbor 8 years ago. This was the message I received last week:

I wanted to reach out and share something with you…
You may not have known it, but a few months ago you helped me through a really tough time!
Several years ago when you were pregnant with your son, you told me that you had had a previous miscarriage. You said a lot of things about your experience with it that were new info to me at the time, and I really valued your openness about it. Well, in March of this year, I had a miscarriage, and it was my first pregnancy. It was very sad and painful, but our conversation came back to me many times because you normalized it for me in a way that all my education and training hadn’t. I wanted you to know that it offered me so much comfort and helped me to get through it with my optimism intact.

This is why I talk about it.

I know there are MANY different paths to children. All I can share is my journey, my singular perspective. It will not reflect everyone’s experience, and I don’t pretend that it ever could. I just hope that every woman out there knows that if they experience a miscarriage, they are not alone. We are all in this together.

]]>https://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/2018/06/24/we-need-to-talk-about-miscarriages/feed/0blurbmyenthusiasmWhat Does a Great America Do With Syria?https://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/2017/04/04/what-does-a-great-america-do-with-syria/
https://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/2017/04/04/what-does-a-great-america-do-with-syria/#respondWed, 05 Apr 2017 00:01:57 +0000http://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/?p=1307I’m horrified by the chemical weapons attack in Syria. Anyone with a pulse and a heartbeat should be.

But what does it mean for Americans?

We are currently under an “America First” leadership policy. President Trump would say that “the people” have given him a clear initiative “Make America Great Again.” I wonder what a Great America does in the face of this current catastrophe?

I hope that you will all grant me a few assumptions:

The United States of America is a world leader.

The United States has tremendous power over other countries by virtue of where we spend our money and energy. (Energy includes military force, but also political humanitarian efforts.)

Knowing what a Great America should do is a very big, complicated question that I don’t have the expertise to answer. But it shouldn’t stop me from thinking about it in terms that DO make sense.

Let’s take it to the playground.

On any given playground there are groups/cliques/circles – call it what you will. Some are stronger than others, have more sway on the basketball court, deciding who gets to play and on what team. One group may rule the jumprope rotation, deciding who gets to be the jumpers and who holds the rope. Ask any kid and they’ll tell you, the rules of the playground are COMPLICATED. Nothing is never as it seems from the outside perspective, there are slight moves being made at every moment that dictate how recess will progress. Some days it ends in fights, other days it’s quiet.

One day your kid comes home with a black eye and a confusing story about how he got it. Something about a basketball, an agreement between 3 other kids, and a jumprope competition. You go to the leaders of the “free time” – the teachers, playground volunteers, and the administration looking for help.

The leaders have choices:

Do nothing. Kids will be kids.

Bring the class into a special session on bullying. Create new policies.

Launch an incident investigation, whittle down the list of probable suspects, and enact a punishment.

Choice 1: Do Nothing

Your kid spends most every recess “volunteering” in the classroom, his academics begin to suffer, and it’s clear he’s unhappy. Unfortunately for you, you are in a one public school town, no money for private school, and no time to homeschool. You wait it out, hoping that things work themselves out. They don’t, they only get worse.

Choice 2: Special Session on Bullying, Create New Policies

Things improve slightly. You learn new ways to talk to your kid about how to handle a bully, and what to do if someone is getting bullied. The incident is out in the open, everyone is watching for signs of bad behavior. The instigators are quieted for a bit. There will be another incident, but now a policy is in place. New bullying sessions are convened, and the repeat offenders start to show themselves and are able to be dealt with on a case-by-case basis.

Choice 3: Probable Suspects Punished

Things may improve, or they may get MUCH worse. The bullying starts to occur in the shadow moments, off to the side, or off the playground completely. The tactics change from less visible black eyes to the shattering of all self-esteem. The bullying becomes less obvious to the leaders, but more sophisticated and treacherous to their victims.

What does this have to do with Syria?

We’ve already assumed we, the Great America, are a world leader. We have the ability to effect change on not one child getting bullied, but on hundreds and thousands of children who are suffering at the hands of dictator bullies, regime bullies, and rebel bullies.

We can do nothing and let the suffering go on for years, decades, and for many, their entire lives.

We can attempt to effect change by bringing everyone to the table. Look for solutions from a world perspective, creating policies and pacts that reduce the power of those who would do harm, and bolster those that would do better.

We can enact swift punishment, using missiles and ground troops. Altering the fight, forcing some into the shadows, and potentially alter the fight in some new, equally disturbing direction.

As a parent of a child, what would you want from your school leadership?

As a parent of a child in Syria, what would you want from your world leadership?

As a parent of this Great America, I want my leadership to work with all the leaders of the free world and look for solutions to the complicated problem that is Syria, maintaining in interest in the better for everyone, not just in the “better for us”.

I know it’s a silly analogy – a playground and a civil war zone – but it works for me on some level. It helps me evaluate my leadership’s response to this crisis. Despite what “caused” this catastrophe – a statement from the White House last week, or a decision from the U.N. Security Council four years ago – this is happening. And as a parent and an American, it would sadden me if we do nothing.

A Great America would do something, together with other world leaders, with great thought and deliberation. A Great America would lead efforts to protect the innocent. A Great America would choose it’s allies carefully, ensuring the good of the children and the good of the world remain our first priority, even if it means a little less time at recess for us.

What do you think the United States should do? Is there a better analogy to help me understand how to evaluate this situation and my leaders?

**A little side-note here: There are a lot of articles written on the topic of Syria, most of which require, at minimum, a college degree to understand; the majority requiring at least a degree in politics. There is not a lot written for the vast number of people who have neither. I’m a firm believer in doing the right thing, and in this situation it means engaging everyone in the conversation. Most adult Americans are parents, and maybe one parent to another we can have a dialogue about what the right thing to do might be without calling each other out as donkeys or elephants.

For reference, here’s just a few articles that informed me. Regardless of my political leanings, I do my best to source from several opposing outlets.

]]>https://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/2017/04/04/what-does-a-great-america-do-with-syria/feed/0blurbmyenthusiasmNow We Know That Actions Speak Louder Than Wordshttps://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/2016/11/09/now-we-know-that-actions-speak-louder-than-words/
https://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/2016/11/09/now-we-know-that-actions-speak-louder-than-words/#respondWed, 09 Nov 2016 19:01:03 +0000http://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/?p=1302I, like many Democrats, am feeling disheartened by the events of last night’s election. I had so much hope that today we would be celebrating the first female president, but instead I’m in mourning. In mourning for our country that is more deeply divided than I ever realized.

But I take responsibility for my part in the events. I thought I did “my part” by discussing politics in a non-confrontational way across my social media channels. I thought I did “my part” by giving donations to the Democratic party, who I truly believed would not only protect things I hold dear, but be in the best interest of so many that lack the abundant privileges I enjoy – good education, a secure roof over my head, a job. I thought I did “my part” by voting.

I realize this morning that I was sorely misguided on how large my part needed to be to assure the majority of Americans that I deeply love and care for the well being of all of us, not just my privileged life.

My part should have included educating myself more on the way “the other half lives”. I should have been more active in LOCAL politics that would have created more – REAL – change in the lives that are suffering. I should have been been more active in volunteering in the fringe communities that feel left out, left to suffer, and left fending for themselves in this complicated world of reforms, tax codes, and laws, making the best decisions they can while trying to keep food on their table despite political conversations that float well above their educational level.

I should have spoken less, and acted more.

The Americans that voted for Trump didn’t see my face in their community. They didn’t experience my care and concern for others at their local rallies trying to protect their jobs . They didn’t see a change in their paycheck when I didn’t vote for local measures that would have protected their jobs or increased their pay. They didn’t hear my voice on social media because they don’t know me, or I them.

So, today, I ask myself, “What does it mean to play ‘my part’?”

I have the choice to spend the next four years writing opinions on a blog (that no one really needs anyway), sharing ideas and throwing support through “likes” on social media, and continue to debate politics in my privileged, admittedly homogenous, circle of friends. Or I can shift my definition from words to action.

We all have this choice today.

If you are one of the millions of Americans that feel like I do – disheartened, fearful, and like we lost something really important last night – I hope you ask yourself the same question. What does it mean to “play your part” in healing this nation that is so very, very broken? How do we SHOW our commitment to the words we speak and the votes we cast?

I’ve been watching Trump’s rise to power in the Republican party, and witnessed the growing support from the “average” Republican while GOP leaders have frantically searched for a way out of the mess they find themselves in.

I’m not going to lie and say that I wasn’t initially stunned by his popularity – but I would be a fool to say that upon further reflection, I don’t understand.

As the primaries reach a boiling point, I watch as “NeverTrump” supporters fling cold insults of superiority, citing Trump supporters lack of education, sophistication, and common sense. I’d point out that these “superior” opines lack compassion and a sense of responsibility.

What the people of “NeverTrump” have forgotten is that a large number of people – and some may say, the majority – are operating from a place of instability, a feeling of being unsafe in their ability to live beyond the next paycheck. They lack the opportunities of quality education, safe neighborhoods, and reliable social networks with enough esteem to provide a buffer against joblessness and losing their homes.

They are asking Trump’s loyal followers to reason beyond their day-to-day existence and consider the larger political and world economic picture. They are being asked to, once again, put aside their real needs, and vote for the greater good.

Trump’s Advantage Over the GOP

For many years, the Republican party has run on a thin platform of “Family Values”, with trickle down economics thrown in. They’ve heralded their “Pro-Life” policies and defended the “Right to Bear Arms”. They’ve galvanized the majority of supporters around these “threats” while subsequently working against the Affordable Care Act and Medicare coverage increases, and advocating for reduced spending on social welfare programs.

I work in marketing, and we spend a lot of time researching target markets and identifying core needs. While not being able to have a gun to protect themselves from their married gay neighbors driving women to get abortions may seem like valid needs, I would argue that these issues really don’t address the true core needs of the “average” Republican.

As I see it, “average” voters want:

Secure jobs

Access to healthcare that won’t bankrupt them

A chance to get a leg up in a system that seems insistent on keeping them down by keeping money out of their pockets and elite networks of influence out of reach.

The fact that the Republican party has been resting primarily on moral laurels with the vast majority of their constituents, I’m frankly astounded that they are surprised by Trump’s rise in popularity.

From a marketing standpoint, Trump ran a better campaign than the dozen+ contenders that started out in this race. He identified the “average” Republican’s points of of pain, and hit HARD on SIMPLE messaging that helped people believe he’s the one to “Make America Great Again”.

The GOP elite are scratching their heads wondering how this could have happened? Really?

They stopped focusing on morality issues that affect their after-life, and started looking for the nominee to make their real lives better. And still keep their guns.

No amount of rational debate about the efficacy of Trump’s plans will be heard by his supporters because he represents a Republican nominee that “understands” the plight of the average American and wants to fight for them. They’ve been swept aside by the GOP and placated with moral stances for too. Having someone truly in their corner is enough and now Donald Trump has garnered raving fans ready to buy, despite a one day return policy in four years.

If there can be a silver lining that can emerge from Trump’s rise in popularity, I can only hope that the Republican party wakes up and recognizes that moral superiority is no longer a reasonable platform – and they start working on developing policies for their majority who have now spoken.

#NeverTrump

For the record, I’m a Democrat. But I believe that we are only as strong as our weakest link. We have been a two-party system, and it doesn’t appear to be changing anytime soon. If one half of our political system looks like Trump, we are all in trouble. His brand of politics is fueled by hate and ignorance – and it’s frightening. I can only hope that this year’s election makes the Republican party rethink their platform and try to right their ship so that Trump can never happen again.

]]>https://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/2016/06/26/why-trump-supporters-got-it-right/feed/0blurbmyenthusiasmA Republican GOP senator or congress man with symbolic tieRegular Old Quoteshttps://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/2016/04/19/regular-old-quotes/
https://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/2016/04/19/regular-old-quotes/#commentsWed, 20 Apr 2016 02:27:16 +0000http://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/?p=1284I see a lot of inspiring quotes in my social media news feed. Quotes from famous people who have gone on to do amazing things. I am motivated to do more, try harder, forgive faster, love stronger.

But some of the most profound statements I’ve ever heard have come from normal, regular people that do extraordinary things every day by just being.

Famous people are inspiring. They represent the real possibility that dreams do come true. But the real people in my life are the real deal. They are juggling children and careers, living through heartache and disappointment, battling isolation and reaching out for the warmth of friendship.

I find everyone inspiring. People I’ve known forever, people I’ve just meet. Almost everyone has something to say at some point during a deep conversation that is worthy of a meme, t-shirt, or coffee mug.

What’s the one thing you would tell the world? I’d really like to know.

Because the world I interact with is far more inspiring than the words of a great person far removed.

]]>https://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/2016/04/19/regular-old-quotes/feed/2blurbmyenthusiasmCS LEWISShe Was Someone’s Somebody, Even Though She Was Drunkhttps://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/2014/06/10/she-was-someones-somebody-even-though-she-was-drunk/
https://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/2014/06/10/she-was-someones-somebody-even-though-she-was-drunk/#commentsWed, 11 Jun 2014 04:31:42 +0000http://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/?p=1201I sat down in the aisle seat, anticipating that my youngest would need to be whisked out at a moment’s notice for creating a scene that only a 3-yr-old knows how to make. Regardless of the fact that this was a grade school performance of The Jungle Book, parents would not appreciate their child’s 0.2 seconds of fame being diminished by a snot-nosed, belligerent little man who smelled suspiciously like a men’s room urinal and in desperate need of a haircut.

That’s when I met her.

Saying that I met her is actually stretching the truth. She stumbled to the edge of the row where I was sitting and slurred “MOVE DOWN” – indicating the open seats beyond me.

I smiled apologetically and explained that the seats were saved. Not by me, of course, but by the owner of the white sweater, green scarf, and Trader Joe’s bag that were strewn across the top. The theater equivalent of the American Flag on the moon.

I’m not entirely sure she understood my rambling explanation, but she moved along and I breathed a sigh of relief – and a clean breath of fresh air. I could taste the alcohol that had wafted from her lips.

Instinctively I thought, “What kind of person comes to a children’s theater completely plastered in short shorts and a cropped sweatshirt bedazzled with Hello Kitty?”

My compassionate side countered, “Someone’s mother, or aunt, or grandma.”

I imagined the child that sat backstage who hoped not for her family to come, but for her family NOT to come. Or who worried that his mother might stand up in the middle of the performance and shriek, “That’s my boy!”

The woman I met was someone’s somebody – and she showed up. She was drunk, disheveled, and wildly inappropriate – but she showed up.

In that moment I stopped thinking about what a horrible person she might have been, and started thinking about how wonderful that child was that this woman was trying to show up for, despite all the obstacles of the obvious addictions and hardships she faced.

If I knew the child that belonged to the heart of that woman, I would simply like to tell them that this was not an embarrassment, this was an act of love.

]]>https://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/2014/06/10/she-was-someones-somebody-even-though-she-was-drunk/feed/4blurbmyenthusiasmPhoto Credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/27086465@N00/2717399328/">Wanda Wisdom</a> via <a href="http://compfight.com">Compfight</a> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/">cc</a>150 Years And Still Enslavinghttps://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/2014/04/06/150-years-and-still-enslaving/
https://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/2014/04/06/150-years-and-still-enslaving/#commentsSun, 06 Apr 2014 12:12:27 +0000http://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/?p=1189I’m sitting here at my desk, half-watching 12 Years A Slave in the background, finding myself having a physical reaction to the sheer horror in this movie. I can’t even look directly at the screen during the worst scenes.

I know this is the intent of the movie, and they have done a spectacular job.

What I can’t wrap my head around is that while we share a collective horror about past mistreatment of slaves, even the current racism today, we continue to judge others with the same vicious tenacity that we cringe from during the movie.

The sickness in my stomach that I feel now is the same sickness I feel when I hear people trash homosexuals, taunt the mentally ill, and call poor people a product of their own choices. We have not changed all that much in 150 years, we’ve just changed the targets – and the tactics.

What happens when we deny federal rights to people that love the same sex? We enslave them to a lifetime of second-class citizens. They can be refused visitation of a dying loved one, denied social security benefits of a partner they spent decades making a home with, and openly discriminated against in adoptions, service, and much more. It makes me ill.

What happens when we deny services to the mentally ill, and the families trying to help them, simply because they don’t have the right medical insurance card in their pocket or the funds to pay for services out-of-pocket? We enslave them to a life of illness. We watch families get torn apart, homeless veterans walk the streets, and substance abuse eat away at the ones that try to self medicate. It makes me ill.

What happens when we blame the poor for their financial situation, reducing the funding to programs intended to help them improve? We watch generations of children grow up to believe the only way to make money is through illegal operations, imprisoning them when they are caught, and enslaving the next generation to a life without a parent and starting the cycle over again. It makes me ill.

Life is complicated, but one thing that is very simple is that we are all a product of it.

I was born with a silver spoon. Two parents, enough food, good education, white, and straight. But being born privileged does not make me better; in fact it may make me worse. It separates me from the very human condition of being born none of these things. I take my status for granted – often.

As I listen to the whippings, cursing, and crying on the screen behind me, I’m not just experiencing the horror of the past, I am also realizing the horrors of the present. I still live in a world of discrimination and prejudice. I still live in a time of second-class citizens. And it makes me ill.

I’ve been reading MANY posts lately about the lies people tell on social media, how we scrub our lives and portray only our most beautiful moments. It’s a social media backlash that I honestly take a little personally.

I post pictures of my kids doing adorable things. I only post pictures of myself when they look good. I share anecdotes of my small children saying amazing, profound things. And I am not ashamed of my life shared on social media.

Here’s how you can interpret my social media activity:

I post cute kid stuff maybe 3-5 times a week. Other than those moments you can assume they have been in timeout for knocking each other around like barbarians.

You will find pictures of me, usually with my husband, about once a month because doing my hair and makeup for anything other than work (and usually not even on those days) only happens that often.

I share articles and stories that inspire, inform, or make me laugh so hard I snort coffee. Since this is most of my posting, you can infer that I read a lot and care about politics, world events, the great irony of reaching middle age, and art. To name just a few.

I “Like” a lot of my friends’ posts because I like my friends and their kids – both human and animal. I genuinely like seeing their fondest memories, reading lists, and musings about life.

You see, I don’t lie on Facebook. In fact, it’s a pretty accurate highlight reel of what my life is like. Would it make my friends happy to see 4 pictures a day of my children crying, whining, or giving me the evil eye? Would they rather see pictures of me the moment I wake up with puffy eyes, standing over a toaster making waffles willing the coffeemaker to brew faster?

Life will always be a series of highs and lows. I have faith in my social media friends that they can read between the lines of my “perfectly Instagrammed” life and know that I am well-rounded, equally disturbed, and a majority of the time completely unraveled. I know that I believe the same about them.

If you love social media and want to continue the fun, please feel free to share this rant. Who knows, maybe it will start a counter-revolution.

]]>https://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/2014/03/02/not-everyone-lies-on-facebook/feed/0blurbmyenthusiasmLies KidsHeroin is no different than sugar. They both kill.https://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/2014/02/03/heroin-is-no-different-than-sugar-they-both-kill/
https://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/2014/02/03/heroin-is-no-different-than-sugar-they-both-kill/#respondTue, 04 Feb 2014 03:53:20 +0000http://blurbmyenthusiasm.com/?p=1162Philip Seymour Hoffman died yesterday, apparently alone in his bathroom with a needle in his arm. I grieve for him, his family, and his close friends that must now face a reality that has been dulled by his absence.

His death, like many other Hollywood and music superstars before him, begins a new discussion about drug addiction and the struggle to get clean. Inevitably, there will be a large portion of the population that will view his drug use as a choice and his death, therefore, a decision. It’s often not said that succinctly, but if we tease out the underlying sentiment, I think I’ve nailed it down pretty well.

Let me be clear on one thing before we begin: I am NOT, nor have I ever been, addicted to drugs or alcohol. I am NOT married to, been in a relationship with, or lost anyone I love dearly to the disease of addiction. I DO care a great deal about humanity and I mourn the loss of anyone to disease of any kind. I DO think it’s important to recognize addiction for what it is.

Just like heroin, not everyone who tries sugar will become addicted and those that do become addicted to sugar will most likely not be able to stop without intervention.

Have you ever had an obese friend, family member, or acquaintance that expressed how much they would love to lose weight and live a healthier lifestyle? Have you also watched that same person continuously make horrible food decisions day in and day out? They may succeed in losing weight for periods of time on any number of fad diets, but sadly return to obesity every time.

We humans love to judge others and their decisions. For those of us not addicted to sugar, it’s utterly confusing why anyone would choose to do something that destroyed their quality of life and put them at risk of early death. Those not faced with addiction will look at each and every meal as a choice. But that is precisely the point at which addicts are separated from non-addicts.

We make choices every day by using our brains to evaluate the risk/reward, cost-to-benefit-ratio, chance of success or failure, etc. Based on our experiences in the world, we have each finely tuned our brain to assign value to all things in life – people, places, activities, and so on. Imagine for a minute if that powerful choice machine, your brain, decided to change the value of certain things without your input. No amount of pleading, thinking, or praying will sway the brain in its decision. It has decided to do a big chemical backfire, and there is nothing you can do about it.

That is how I see addiction. I’m not a scientist, doctor, or anyone with any letters after my name, but I am someone that believes addicts do not have a choice.

It’s easy to look at a heroin, alcohol, or even sugar addict and think it is a choice. Was it a choice the first time someone tried heroin? Absolutely. But that choice was based on their experience with the world and the value their brain put on the experience of trying heroin; the risk versus reward. The choice to try heroin was the product of experience, the addiction to heroin was the product of the drug itself.

The choice to eat sugar is not as complicated since most of us get introduced to it within a few moments of birth, but addiction to sugar is a product of the food (drug) itself. When we begin to learn more about the power of sugar as an addictive substance, I hope we also gain a better understanding of the disease of addiction itself. Sugar is something that affects all of us and harder to ignore and marginalize.

If you enjoyed this, please share. It’s love and understanding that will move us forward.